It was only in the hollow behind a heap of gravel, lit by the half-moon hanging heavily in the near-black sky, that Lory dared stop longer than a few minutes, heart pounding as she listened for any signs of footsteps in the tapestry of night-birds and insects and the rustling of leaves.
It had taken her a while to accept the greenery’s sounds as a non-threatening part of the background noise. Most of what she’d heard had been in the small oasis-like bits and pieces of Dunai, where she’d waited her turn to get water when she’d still lived on the streets. Then, the greenery had been consoling. The same as it had when the sun had still illuminated its leaves. Now, every rustling leaf, every cracking twig, made her heart leap into her throat, and she needed to calm herself with deep breaths, reminding herself that the bushes and occasional tree weren’t out for her life. They were friends, offering protection from whoever was hunting her.
At least, the temperature hadn’t dropped to an uncomfortable level—yet. Who knew what else those mountains had in store for her?
Pondering the merits of lying down on the hard ground, Lory pulled down the bag she’d slung over her shoulders to her front, opening the strings and digging for the blanket. She must have covered at least five miles since sunset, and her tired body protested at even the thought of taking another step.
She should get some rest now so she’d be able to run, let alone fight, when one of the Ashthorn students found her—ifanyone found her.
In a territory as vast as these mountains, who knew if she’d meet a single soul within forty-eight hours? She’d certainly gone at least four without it. Odds were, people had headed off in all directions to hunt her down, and they might not find her until the time was up—unless they’d wait at the final tower for her, ready to kill her just before she made it across the invisible line of safety.
There was really no winning this, was there?
With a sigh, Lory sat down, hand halfway in the bag and her thighs protesting as she lowered her weight. Carefully, she pulled out the blanket, pressing the rough fabric to her chest as if that would protect her or provide some comfort. She was about to unfold it, checking whether she’d imagined having spotted something made of metal she could use as a weapon in there, when her eyelids started drooping. Like two heavy curtains, they blocked out the moonlight, and her aching body became so, so heavy. Only a minute—she’d rest only a minute?—
When Lory woke up,it was to the whispering of the leaves in the nearby bushes.
No—not the leaves. Those were voices. Actual human voices, and they couldn’t have been more than twenty feet away.
Pulse hammering in her throat, Lory forced herself to keep motionless.
If they’d spotted her, they wouldn’t have been talking, so she still had the element ofsurprise on her side. One wrong movement, and she’d alert them to her presence—and whatever death they’d planned for her would no longer be a mystery.
“It’s been a while since so many soldiers have been roaming the pass,” one of the voices—a male one—claimed in a lilt that reminded Lory of the Criulian merchants sometimes selling their goods in the Dunaii markets. She’d stolen her fair share from their stands, and now she hoped this wasn’t the Guardians’ way of demanding justice for her bad deeds.
“No idea what they’re after this time, but obviously not us,” another one responded, his voice harsher but still hushed.
Lory held her breath.
Those weren’t students. Those had to be Criu rebels.
Khayrivven’s words came back to her—she’d need to watch out for more dangers than her fellow students trying to take her life. This was a real war zone, where Sen Dunaii fought to clear the passes from Criu rebels to open land trade routes once more. And at least three of them were less than ten feet away now, their footsteps breaking through the carpet of rustling leaves.
“Maybe we should capture one of them and find out,” a low, female voice suggested, her lilt stronger than the others’. “If Ulder’s soldiers are trying new maneuvers to get rid of us, we want to learn the details sooner rather than later.”
Lory clutched the blanket on her chest so hard her hands started cramping, but she didn’t make a sound.
“They haven’t come up with anything original in months,” one of the men retorted. “What makes you think this is about us?”
A brief pause followed that made Lory’s heart rate spike, then the sound of footsteps swallowed by the background noise. An owl hooted somewhere in the trees, and a twig cracked behind Lory.
Please no. Not like this.
Leaping up and running wasn’t an option without knowing the three Crius’ location, and the snapping of twigs nearby didn’t bode well for the safety of her surroundings.
Taking tally of her limbs and joints, Lory carefully uncurled her fingers from the blanket, begging the Guardians that she wouldn’t make a sound as she slid the fabric off her and placed it beside her, on the ground.
The clinking of metal against gravel was barely loud enough to startle Lory, but as she instinctively grabbed for it, something stilled in the near-darkness surrounding her.
Fuck the Guardians and all that was holy.
As she opened her palm, a familiar, round, golden object glimmered in the moonlight.
The brooch from Lu’Shen’s. She hadn’t needed to use it at the brothel, but the madame’s words were still fresh in her mind:The brooch holds a small knife. If you get into trouble, don’t hesitate to use it.
A weapon. Khayrivven had given her a weapon?—
“Oh, Khayrivven,” she mouthed to herself, fighting the tear of gratitude threatening to escape. “What have you done?”
